Olaaay, Olay, Olay, Olay, Braaazil, Braaazil!!

It's Labor Day weekend, and I totally don't feel like working, so I start my day at the Brazilian Festival on 46th and 6th Ave.

The music, the drums, the dancing, the Bosa Nova, the smiles, the food. Wonderful. The streets are alive and packed, it’s crazy, and it’s fun. Lot’s of dark handsome men wearing green and yellow Renaldo shirts. Women in platform shoes and short shorts. A group of dancers wearing elaborate carnival headdress and colorful ruffled dresses. These people know how to live, know how to enjoy life. The young, and not so young samba down 43^rd street... the wonderful thing is they are all young at heart.

I stop at one of the food stands .. I have no idea what this is, but a lot of people are eating these deep fried balls with sauce and they look good so I decide to try .. they are made of mashed black eyed peas and are delicious. A little further on I see the Candy Apples .. my weakness…ok.. it’s a holiday, I go for it. Check this out .. the music is so infectious this vendor is beating out a rhythm on the cover of his catering tray!

This celebration reminds me of the first time Guga won the French Open. The fans went wild, everyone was celebrating, a large crowd of Brazilians with all kinds of drums Sambaed around the stadium. Guga, wearing a Brazilian flag around his shoulders and that great smile joined them. What other champion would do that? How much do we miss him?

What makes these people so special? I think it’s the fact that their culture is so widely diversified. The mix of Native Indigenous people, with the Portuguese, African, European, and Japanese weaves a rich tapestry of diversity. Being of mixed heritage myself, I find this wonderfully interesting. There is an obvious African influence in the music, the drumming, and a lot of the art.

The artist and poet M.C. Richards once said, “All the arts we practice are apprenticeship. The big art is our life.” It seems to me that the people of Brazil are masters in the art of life.

However, now I must practice the art of tennis, so I’m off to the site. It’s hotter than Hades on court, and I need a few pix of Roddick, so I head up to the promenade where I can stand in the shade. I like to shoot from up there anyway, late in the day the long shadows are really nice, put there’s a little breeze. Andy wins pretty easily and I need photos of Patty Schnyder, so I head over to the Grandstand.

I stay for a few games, and knock of some pix then move over to Armstrong for the end of the Tsonga Robredo match. Robredo wins in straights. I’m somewhat surprised; I thought Tsonga would give him a tougher match.

Next problem is what to eat... I check out the Press dining room and find the usual boring, fare available, so I decide to try the food court. There are a lot of choices, most of them designed to ruin your health and your waistline simultaneously. After much deliberation, I go for the Indian Vegetarian Plate. Not bad. Spicy spinach, rice and a curry with cauliflower and something else that has been cooked so long it is no longer recognizable.

The first night match features Elena Dementieva and Na Li. I am totally uninterested in this match, so I’ve got a little time to download my photos and get some editing done before Cilic and Djokovic start. I have nothing on Cilic so I want to shoot maybe just the first set and get out of here. Uh Oh... Cilic takes the first set... does this mean and I need to stay in case the Joker looses? No, I make the executive decision and catch the midnight bus… amazing how catching the midnight bus seems like you are leaving early. There is something wrong with this picture.